He is not
by savingdame
Summary: Sometimes we admit our feelings to ourselves when it may be too late.


_He is not dead. He is not dead. He is not dead. Not just yet, for Christ's sake._

Like mantra she kept telling herself those words over and over again, as if she believed that after certain time they would have become true. Everything which surrounded her seemed to be quiet, she couldn't hear anything but the sound of her heart beating faster and faster against her chest and the pouring rain hitting against the window. _Funny thing_, she thought, _how rain always comes when I can't cry_. Of course she couldn't do it. What would people think of her? The Evil Queen of Numbers crying, because she lost an agent? She lost more than her fair share of them over the years. Either by long term damages or by fatal gunshot wounds. But none of them, had ever been James. Her James.

"Ma'am?"

A male voice broke through her thoughts. Turning around, she came face to face with her Chief of staff.

"What can I do for you Tanner?" She gave him one of her famous glares.

Tanner knew that he would have to tread carefully otherwise he would be looking a new job.

It was clear from her demeanour that Olivia most certainly wasn't in a mood to deal with them. Even though no one knew her true feelings towards James Bond, Bill suspected that it was something more than just boss-employee relationship. He could see the way her eyes were brightening every time she saw James, how her lips twitched a bit every time she tried not to giggle when Bond send her one of his charming smiles. She loved him. Oh how well Bill knew that Olivia loved James. And now? Never in his life before had he seen such sadness in those blue eyes. Never had he seen her so pale and worried or the amount of pain written all over her face. Suddenly she wasn't just M, The evil queen of Numbers. She was woman in love who had just lost her lover.

"Do you need anything, ma'am?"

Bill knew that last thing she would like now was pity and comfort. Olivia was not that kind of person. If he tried to do something like that, he most certainly would have been slapped.

"I need a bloody drink." She didn't have to say anything more to be left alone in her office. She poured herself her favourite bourbon and sat behind her desk.

Letting out a sigh, she grabbed her phone and started to write a text to her husband telling him that she was going to be late due to a last minute meeting and not to wait for her. Truth to be told, she just didn't want to pretend in front of her family that she was okay, when her heart was breaking into a million pieces. They didn't know she was the head of MI6, they didn't know a single thing about her life, about all the sacrifices she had to commit in the name of England and The Queen.

Olivia drank the alcohol which helped calm her nerves and decided that today she would go for a walk along South Bank. It was the only place where she didn't have to hide and could simply be herself. Not M, just Olivia who did not have to worry about the county's safety. She knew that if she went home, her husband, children and grandchildren would be waiting with cake and wine, after all it was her damn birthday.

She closed her laptop and grabbed her coat deciding she had enough of work for one day. She ought to inform Tanner where she was going, but right now she couldn't care less. With each step she took, the world seemed to freeze, except for her tears that once again started to fall.

She must look a right mess, but she found herself not caring. Her heart ached with every thought about James, who god only knows could be anywhere. Mallory was right, she was sentimental about him. How could she not be? She loved him. And those feelings for the first time scared her. She was old enough to be mother, Christ her kids were the same age as him!

Shaking her head she walked into the quiet bar. Celebrating birthday alone was much more her style rather than spending night with her family. She felt guilty, of course she did. She didn't love her husband – she never had – and her children came all the way down to London to be with her that day, but, James being dead was something she could not deal with. Not today, not when she admitted that she had feelings for him. It was ironic it took his death for her to make her realise what she had felt for him.

"What can I get you, ma'am?" The waiter asked from behind the bar.

"Double scotch" As soon as she heard herself saying that, she had realised that it was James' usual. Damn him and her fucking feelings. She ought to hate him for that, but no. She loved him more than anything she could think of.

Taking off her coat, she sat herself on the leather stool, as the waiter brought her drink over to her.


End file.
